


Expressive

by hajiiwa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: ?? what are tags, Fluff, Gen, Hand appreciation, Hands, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8378311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hajiiwa/pseuds/hajiiwa
Summary: All three of them knew about his ‘appreciation’. They joked and said that it was a kink, but Oikawa merely shrugged the comments off, knowing that it wasn’t exactly something they could understand. Some people liked hair or eyes-- Oikawa liked hands.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ~some disclaimers before we start that I didn't want to cram into the tags~
> 
> it is not a _kink_ , okay, it is an appreciation. it's touched on a little bit in the fic (and the summary) but I want to disclose that there are vaguely nsfw references that... shouldn't be a problem to anyone reading tbh
> 
> I only tagged iwaoimatsuhana + oikawa/the others because it's technically only implied that they're all in a relationship? and it's made very clear in the fic oikawa's draw towards each person (it becomes less confusing as you read =-=)

Hands, to Oikawa, were the most captivating part of a person.

They were expressive, used, personified in such a way that sometimes they seemed to be their own entity. It was bizarre, the way each and every pair of hands differed, and that enthralled Oikawa.

Looking down at his own, Oikawa immediately saw things he liked– square palm, long fingers, slender knuckles. His skin was so pale that his veins popped out, bright and blue, so vivid that it looked as if someone had taken a marker to him. According to his mother, he had always been rather taken with his own hands, and when he was younger, he would sit there and stare at them for ages.

It wasn’t so much his own hands that captivated him, though; it was looking at others’.

Oikawa knew his mother’s and father’s hands by heart, having grown up with them– but he also knew Iwaizumi’s, and Hanamaki’s, and Matsukawa’s, almost better than anyone else.

He had learned Iwaizumi’s hands so fast, but it was interesting to see how they had changed over time; grown rougher, warmer, stronger, more used. His hands were always, _always_ warm, even when the chilly winter wind froze him from his nose to his toes. The nails were always short but surprisingly well taken care of, apart from the small hangnails and cuts that littered his knuckles.

Hanamaki’s were the closest to his own in size. His palm was larger, but his fingers were smaller and oh-so-slightly thicker. For him, Hanamaki’s hands were the hardest to look at– not because they weren’t desirable, but because he always kept his nails slightly long, which meant there was constant tapping, and often he would curl his fingers inwards and scratch his palms, leaving long red streaks across the soft skin. They were always exceedingly gentle when he was touching others, though, and it always caused Oikawa to melt when he was the recipient.

Oikawa _loved_ Matsukawa’s hands. His palm was lean with fingers to match, and his small wrists only beautified their width. He had the skin type that Oikawa couldn’t look away from– slightly tanner than his own but splotched with so many different colors and shades that really made them stand out. His tendons were constantly on display whenever he would rub his hands together for warmth or furiously scribble something onto a piece of paper, and it always took Oikawa great deals of self-control before he could get himself to look away.

All three of them knew about his ‘appreciation’. They joked and said that it was a kink, but Oikawa merely shrugged the comments off, knowing that it wasn’t exactly something they could understand. Some people liked hair or eyes– Oikawa liked hands.

However, having three partners made indulging easy. Iwaizumi would rub his sore shoulders after practice; Hanamaki would gently massage his scalp, his slightly long nails providing relief Oikawa didn’t know he had needed; and Matsukawa would hold Oikawa’s hands in his own, pressing chaste kisses to the insides of his arm down to his wrist, then flip his hands over and kiss along the beds of his knuckles.

There were hands, of course, that Oikawa _hated._ He hated his own sometimes, for not being strong like Iwaizumi’s, or caring like Hanamaki’s, or beautiful like Matsukawa’s. He hated them for not setting efficiently enough, for not being fast enough to catch that figurine before it fell, for not fitting so well into someone else’s.

But he liked his flexible wrists, and the way his hands seemingly moved on their own as he spoke, and how they could easily accomplish tasks that would bring others to their knees.

Most times he liked his hands, and he knew that others did, too.

**Author's Note:**

> pop over and say hi @ chxngsey.tumblr.com


End file.
